


The Majesty of Iarde

by Sunset_Queen



Series: Journey of the Firiath [1]
Category: Original Work, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Astral Bullshit, Cröak is annoying, Drug Jokes, Gen, Multiplicity/Plurality, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Your Princess is in Another Castle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 12:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunset_Queen/pseuds/Sunset_Queen
Summary: Through an experimental warp pad installed by the Crystal Gems in his homeworld, Boromir - and his two headmates - get sucked into a multidimensional adventure
Relationships: Boromir (Son of Denethor II) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Journey of the Firiath [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571977





	The Majesty of Iarde

The warp pad installed at Minas Tirith by the Pearls from αR worked! Boromir and the Firiath that shared body and mind flew through exastral, the lithium tubes which extend throughout the 4D Planck Universe, and soon found themself& in a busy square in a foreign land. This was Iardephon, the newcomers soon learned, being guided by a woman who called herself Éa - quite strange, pondered Boromir, that a woman would bear the name of his world. But he made no comment, being stopped by his ‘mate Galathil.

Éa led the three-in-one to the marketplace of Erlendo Phrasavan, where they perused the goods at sale. Gondorian money wasn’t exactly *used* in Iarde, but silver was silver, and silver coins can *always* be exchanged for goods and services. Thorndîs and Boromir decided to purchase a map the trio could share of the city, marking clearly every major location on the Hill of Iardephon, and some in the suburbs that are Underhill.

A raven flew overhead, squawking at the crew. They ignored the raven amongst the noise.

The Church of the Heath was nearby Razavian Square, the square in the center of Iarde where the Firiath Collective appeared, and they decided to check it out, as it was Þunorstag, or Thursday, the traditional day of Heathen worship. They walked in, their gruff, Viking appearance fitting in with the carvings on the walls, though their emblem - the White Tree - was completely foreign.

The Góði there, Gunnar Vilhjalmur Støk, was a stoic man, who taught patience and peace and few words of direct comfort from the storms that battered the hearts of the Iardephonians. His sermon was about to conclude for the day, and - as always - he ended it with a prayer to Thor, the Lord of Storms, and to Týr, the God of Justice. There was a visible cheer from the congregation after the prayer, and the crowd was much more merry than what Gunnar taught. Boromir enjoyed what he saw of Heathen worship, but there was a sense of restlessness within him, so he moved on quickly after the sermon was over.

The raven squawked again, just as Firiath left the hall, and it dominated their awareness even through the crowd’s chatter. What’s with this goddamned raven, thought Thorndîs.

The Firiath decided to head towards the palace, not fully intending to reach it, but more wanting to appreciate the sights of the city around them. The autumn air blew cold, from the north, from Valaheim, and the crowds dispersed as the lunch hour came to a close. Along the way, Thorndîs and Galathil marveled at the many shops along the grand avenue, and the great pillaring towers that stretched up into the sky from the palace and that lined the avenue as they got closer.

As they reached the palace gates, feet exhausted as *fuck* and badly needing some water, the raven flew overhead and nearly picked up the body of the Firiath as it sunk its talons into their thick, androgynous curly hair. “WHAT THE FUCK RAVEN!” shouted them all in unison, but the few passers by just laughed at the travelers. Maybe there was something to this raven, Galathil thought, and then it dawned on them… The raven was *guiding* them all along!

The raven, which the trio of medianmates had called Cröak, flew into the open gates of the palace, and the Firiath Collective slowly followed Cröak on foot. When they entered the palace, the guard, Silmar, demanded he be allowed to check their bags. Sword - keep it in the sword racks, Tankard - keep with you, Half ounce of Westmansweed - no matter, as long as you don’t smoke in the Queen’s presence - Ah! The badge of service in the name of the Princes of Anfalas! This is the contraband that I must confiscate!

They objected, but it was too late. The badge was firmly in the possession of the royalty now. With everything checked, they advanced into the palace, the Raven squawking at them from atop the Queen’s hair. 

“Come, traveler, and greet me.” spoke the Queen of Iarde, her voice soft like a young woman and yet with elements of elderness within her. “I am Siraya detou Brassus Máel Óg, Queen of Iarde. I have heard much about your realm from the East Wind, my counsel, and it is time to meet one of you Ëans in the flesh.” 

“She… recognizes us? Knows we’re from Ëa? How peculiar!” pondered Thorndîs, being the only one listening, the other two glaring suspiciously at the woman and the raven in her hair. 

“Greetings I suppose, great Queen. I am Thorndîs, a woman of Gondor, and I am here with my fellow inhabitants of this body Boromir and Galathil. Why have you - and your raven - summoned us here today?”, said Thorndîs, her voice softer and more feminine than those of Boromir and Galathil

“Oh dearie me, I didn’t mean to imply you must be singular! I simply had no way of knowing. And hmm, *Cröak get out of my hair,* I have received a prophecy in a dream that tells of one(or more) of your folk, an Ëan, going deep into the vast reaches of headspace, deeper than ever before, and bringing back with them the wisdom of eternal stars. Whatever eternal stars means, I don’t know, but Cröak found you and smelled your soul, knew you were the one(or the three, or the five, or three-thousand) that this prophecy spoke of. And you clearly have a penchant for adventure already, else you wouldn’t have went through the mysterious warp pad placed in your city!”

Thorndîs nodded, the other medianmates still disassociated tf out. “I suppose we could, if the prophecy *really* says so.”

Siraya stood up and then back down adjusting her skirt. “Then I’ll tell you what you need to do. Take the New Jotunheim Express, it runs weekdays at 7AM and 7PM at the train station in West Underhill. Then find your way to Castle Ochre, it’s inside the cliffsides of New Jotunheim. A weird psilocybe like creature will tell you the princess you seek - Cathriona Láš Ériarne - is in another castle. Follow the shroom’s instructions from there.

Good luck, and may the Powers be with you. Sorry about your badge by the way.”

They woke up the next day, missed the train but caught the night train, and soon they were off on their grand adventure. Fame and fortune awaited!


End file.
